


don't read the last page

by afterplaidshirtdays



Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterplaidshirtdays/pseuds/afterplaidshirtdays
Summary: Post Stolen Kisses, or the week Pacey and Joey sneak around.





	don't read the last page

**Author's Note:**

> This was borne from Joey saying this in The Longest Day: “We’ve been in denial all week. When we’re around other people, we pretend like nothing’s changed, and then the minute we’re alone it turns into this… embarrassing gropefest.”
> 
>  
> 
> Title comes from "New Year's Day" by Taylor Swift.

They tentatively walk back into Gwen’s house after a longer-than-expected excursion in the woods, cringing when the creaky floorboards make their presence known under their feet. The fireplace has been put out and the lights have been turned off. The quiet is too much, the energy between them exploding.

Pacey nudges the bedroom door open, and Joey almost smirks at the situation befalling them again.

“You and me again, sweetheart,” he jeers, eyes on the occupied floor and empty bed.

She gives him a defiant look, whispers, “I can control myself. Can you?”

This makes him smile. “Potter, could you want me more?”

“I hate you,” she says with a pout as they lay down.

Somehow, stopping to change into pajamas and imagining Pacey stripping down to his boxers is a little too much to think about now, especially considering the amount of skin she’d been tempted to touch in the woods. She can still taste him, his lips hot on her jaw, her hands in his hair. The memory brings an ever-growing smile to her lips.

He faces her, and can feel her relax with looming slumber next to him. He looks around the room, past his feet dangling off of the bed, at the three others in the room. Everyone on the floor is fast asleep. If he wanted to kiss her, he could. She’d probably swat his hand away and might even find her hand connecting with his jaw, she is Joey Potter after all, but he could still try.

Instead, he tentatively moves a hand to her cheek. She lets out a small, shy grin that he can’t get enough of. He's kissed her more times than he can count now, can still feel her hand grabbing his and kissing _him_ , and the events of today are seared in his memory. Her skin is cold under his touch, but the way she slightly leans into it makes him feel warm.

 

 

 

 

 

They’re the last to wake again the next morning, but Joey’s just fine with that. Meeting Dawson and Andie's eyes first thing the next day wouldn't constitute good luck, or whatever it is she's hoping will happen.

Pacey’s in the bedroom putting on his jeans, sporting bed head she’s trying not to think about while she’s in the bathroom brushing her teeth.

It's the first time she's gotten alone in hours. She touches her lips when she remembers the day before. She should feel guilty, and she does, but more than any of that she feels good. Better than she has in months.

There’s a curt knock at the door.

“Five more minutes,” she calls out, rinsing her toothbrush and turning off the faucet.

“I left my brush in there,” Pacey says.

Joey rolls her eyes. “I’m surprised you ever brush your hair. Tell me, how much action does that thing see?”

The door opens, and she lets out a squeak. “Hey, I could’ve been naked in here.”

“And isn’t it a pity that you’re not,” he quips, reaching over to grab his hairbrush and leaning against the now closed bathroom door.

She can’t help the smile that springs to her face. He looks fresh-faced and so, so boyish in the morning. “Perv.”

“Prude,” he counters, and she notices the devilish look on his face.

It’s instinctive, the way she pushes him against the door and touches her lips to his. Whatever barrier there was yesterday feels invisible, and being able to just act on her desires is so liberating. She feels her own age for once. He smirks against her lips, and she revels in the way his hands move up and down her sides. It’s intoxicating, the way he makes her feel.

His lips reach down to meet hers when she starts to pull away, and she feels drawn back into him like a moth to a flame. It’s wrong, so wrong, the way they have to do this in secret, but _god_ it feels good.

His lips by her ear, his hands preoccupied in her hair, it all creates a potent combination.

Then she remembers where they are, who’s in the house, and it acts like a wet blanket.

“Breakfast,” she murmurs into the skin at the base of his neck.

“Right,” Pacey says, running a hand through his hair.

He kisses her again, fast but soft, before retreating from the room.

 

 

 

 

 

It takes five minutes to ready herself and be presentable.

Whatever happened in the bathroom made her cheeks flush and her hair even more mussed than a night’s sleep had achieved.

She subconsciously pats her hair down when she sits down for breakfast, avoiding a glare from Gwen at the opposite end of the table. This morning, there’s no teasing from her about she and Pacey being the last to awaken.

Pacey’s next to Joey, his leg touching hers, loading up her plate with pancakes and eggs while Dawson’s pouring her a cup of coffee from across the table. He gives her a friendly smile, and says he hasn’t seen her since their almost-talk last night. Pacey stiffens next to her, turning to Will and starting a conversation to busy himself.

She makes up an excuse about feeling tired and wanting to bask in the firelight outside. It makes her cheeks flush even more. From the guilt, the thrill, the rush of it all.

 

 

 

 

 

She sits next to Pacey in the back of Dawson’s car despite an obvious attempt from Dawson to have her sit next to him in the front. Whatever she thought would be his reaction to finding out about them feels ten times worse now. Joey can see the scene unfold before her, and each time she’s the villain.

She holds her legs to her chest, avoiding Dawson’s gaze in the rear view mirror and the looks Pacey keeps giving her when their arms brush. Kicking his shin, Joey mumbles _cut it out_ , to which Pacey curses and calls her a name she glares at him for.

“Anyone need a soda?” Dawson asks from the driver’s seat, pulling over to a nearby gas station.

Her ears perk up. “Yes, actually.”

Pacey grumbles as he gets out of the car with her, but she doesn’t fail to notice the way he grabs her elbow when she steps down from the running board onto the muddy ground just to make sure she doesn’t slip and fall. Even though she’s mad at him, it registers in her mind.

She doesn’t say a word, silently dragging him around the store to where nobody in their group can see or hear.

With a pinch on his arm, she scolds, “You can’t do that in there. With everybody.”

It’s said so hotly, her arms crossed, frown gracing her lips, that he smiles. He has the audacity to smile. Joey arches an eyebrow.

“You look really cute when you’re fake angry.”

She tries not to smile at that. “Hey Romeo, I mean it.”

Pacey smirks. “You just wanna kiss me again.”

“I do not.”

“Let me guess,” he starts, pacing in front of her. “You wanted to take me to bed last night but there were three other people in the room and you’re just not into that.”

Her expression is stony.

“No? Okay-” he walks up to her, their breaths close. He runs a hand up her arm, and she nearly trembles. “Tell me again how this makes you feel.”

Joey’s lips part, meeting his serious demeanor beneath the typical bravado. This morning felt like deja vu, waking up with him next to her. Only everything had changed. He still made her nervous, made it difficult to sleep, but now every conversation, every touch, felt even more loaded and under surveillance.

“I– I already told you,” she gets out. He’s stepped closer to her, and she can smell the peppermint on his breath.

Pacey nods, hearing Andie’s voice in the distance rounding everyone up back into the car.

Her eyes find his lips and she stares for a solid four seconds before he has to be the one to pull them out of whatever vortex swallowed them up in the past few minutes.

Walking back to the car, he whispers in her ear, “You know, you make me feel the same way.”

 

 

 

 

 

Movie night at Dawson’s house used to be innocent enough. There used to be popcorn and candy, pauses of the remote and innocent joking around.

There’s still those things, but now there’s more.

Joey’s the last one to arrive, huffing out a long breath when she climbs in through the window, mumbling about repairs and the B&B.

“Hey,” Dawson greets, passing her a bowl of popcorn from the bed. Andie, Jen, and Jack have sprawled out next to him in various positions, barefoot and spilling jelly beans all over.

Pacey’s sitting on the floor. His lips form a smirk when her eyes meet the space left next to him by the foot of the bed. “I think it’s your lucky day, Potter.”

The rest of them chuckle, and Joey lets her shoulders relax a bit. “To grace you with my presence?”

She sits down next to him, their sides touching, and she feels it, the electricity again. They haven’t seen each other in twelve hours, but it could’ve been twelve days by the way her body seems to react when she’s near him. She can feel his eyes on her, on the space beneath her ear that he’s discovered makes her shiver.

Joey busies herself with the bowl of popcorn, trying to avoid his gaze and the way her skin is getting hotter by the second.

“I think we’re out of soda,” Jack says as _Singin’ In The Rain_ begins to play.

“I’ll get some,” she says immediately, getting up, hand grazing Pacey’s sweater as she does so.

He gets up too, hearing her footsteps descending the stairs. “I’ll go help her. Yeah.”

It’s clumsy, the way they pile into the coat closet and knock over a coat tree. All Joey can think of are his hands on her waist and his lips hot on hers, barely ever parting for breath. His hands slowly move up her sides and it drives her crazy, so much so that she lets out a gasp and plants kisses around his jaw while her hands slide into his hair.

“This,” she gets out, mouth hot and hips grinding into his, “Is not smart.”

Pacey’s tongue touches her lips so smoothly, like glass, and her eyes fall closed. “Definitely not. I mean, the reasons.”

“Yes, the reasons,” Joey says, pausing. “The reasons why this is not okay.”

“Of which there are many, Potter.” Her lips are nearly chapped, but the way his mouth molds to hers is so smooth, so fluid. Like they were meant to be doing this.

Her hand slips up the back of his sweater, feeling the tightness of his muscles. It makes her groan.

”We probably shouldn’t.”

“Not here.”

After a sigh, Joey’s the one that pulls away, though she wants to do anything but. His hands grab hers and he holds them up to his chest. She can feel his heart beating, and she looks away to stop herself from initiating this whole thing again.

“Soda,” he says breathily, almost scratchy.

Joey smiles, leaning up to kiss him again. This time it’s sweeter, less frantic. “You first. Get the cups and ice.”

“Is that how this relationship is gonna be? Bossing me around?” he asks with a grin she wants to kiss away.

“Would you have it any other way?” she counters, inching the coat closet door open and checking if they have company.

Pacey puts a finger to his chin in mock thought. “I guess not.” 

 

 

 

 

 

He grabs her hand midway through the movie, and she almost lets out a gasp.

There's a blanket over their laps and Joey's got her legs held to her chest, and to outside eyes it doesn't appear that anything besides their shoulders are touching, but she gives him a look of panic.

Pacey keeps his eyes on the television in front of them, returns her anxiety with his thumb moving over her knuckles, a soft kneading.

She looks around and no one is casting them a glance. Jen's fallen asleep, Jack's scarfing down popcorn, and Andie's got her eyes glued to the screen. Dawson's got his hands behind his head, studying the shot selection and rewinding ever so often to rewatch a certain take.

Joey turns back to catch Pacey's eyes on her. It almost makes her blush. Instead, she squeezes his hand back.

 

 

 

 

 

“You got an A?” she asks him in the cafeteria after class as he sets his graded math test in front of her.

“My dear, doth soundest surprised,” Pacey replies.

Joey rolls her eyes. “I can see _Hamlet_ did wonders to your vocabulary.”

“The opposite actually. Sorry to disappoint,” he smiles.

She gets her lunch out of her backpack, giving him a glare when she notices that he’s staring at her lips. “Get whatever image you have out of your head if you still want help for tomorrow’s quiz.”

He animatedly shrugs, leaning closer. “What image?”

“Let’s just say that you succeeded in getting that A without sexual favors so it will remain that way.”

“But Jo,” Pacey starts with a laugh, before noticing Andie and Dawson headed their way. “Yeah, good looking out.”

“What?” Joey asks, confused, before following his gaze.

“Hey guys,” Andie says, sitting next to Pacey. A little too close, if you asked Joey. Her eyes linger a second longer than they should on the pair before turning to Dawson.

“So what’s on the agenda for tonight?” Dawson asks.

“Typical Thursday night. You know, studying, Alexander, washing the linens, et cetera,” she says noncommittally.

“In that case, why don’t I come over? Bring over a movie,” Dawson suggests.

Joey’s eyes lower and she fidgets before Pacey interjects, “Sorry man. Big Geometry quiz tomorrow. I’ve designated myself the flash card maker since Jo over here’s got about five chapters to ram into my head.”

She gives him a look, a look that would mean nothing on the surface to anyone else who saw, but a look nonetheless. It screams of her guilt, of the dirtiness of sneaking around, of the hurt they’re going to cause these two people once everything boils over, of the tenuous nature of her relationship with Dawson, of the way Andie’s arm is touching Pacey’s in a way that Joey knows is deliberate, of the exhilarating feeling coursing through her veins of having something so exciting and scary just inches from her.

Pacey returns the look, imperceptible to anyone but her.

“Oh,” Dawson says. “Next time, then.”

Joey lets out a breath, nodding her head. Turning to Pacey, she rolls her eyes, “We take Trig, moron.”

 

 

 

 

 

Cross legged on the kitchen counter, Joey lets out a tsk.

“I actually have to make these flash cards?” Pacey asks, opening the fridge and retrieving some iced tea.

He sets the bottle next to her, his breath wafting over her like a mist of something heady and untouchable.

“Yes,” she says, grabbing the bottle and moving it away. “And this is not your place of business, so tap water it is.”

“But I helped build it,” Pacey complains, a small frown forming on his lips. Underneath it is a grin, one that makes her stomach tighten and her palms sweaty. She never noticed before how certain shades of light color his eyes differently. Sometimes they look green, sometimes they look blue. Sometimes they have flecks of grey in them, and sometimes when he smiles they look like bright orbs that speak of possibility and promise.

Joey uncurls her legs and moves them over the edge of the counter. He moves closer to her, standing between her denim covered limbs. His hand moves up her thigh and she lets her eyes fall closed, her lips leaning in to touch his. He moves his mouth to the space where her neck meets her shoulder, and he smiles against her skin because he knows it makes her ticklish and horny all in the same go.

She brings him in closer and sets her face in front of his, their breaths close, their fingers entwining. Just breathing him in like this is exciting, the electricity pulsing through them, the soft way his fingers hold hers.

“I think… I think you need your graphing calculator,” she says.

Pacey pulls away. “Is that a euphemism?”

Joey gives him a sly grin. “No. Because I don’t date idiots, and you need to do well tomorrow.”

“Dating?” he says, stepping away in faux surprise. “Whoa woman, I think you’ve misread my intentions.”

“Is that right?” she asks, hopping off the counter.

“Obviously.”

She gives him a knowing smile after she rolls her eyes, lightly pushing him away so she can go check on the laundry.

 

 

 

 

 

“Okay, isn’t this is a bit tawdry?” Joey asks, back against a cabinet in the confined space of his boat.

Pacey nods, lips grazing hers. “Yes, but it’s not like we have many options.”

She lets his tongue open her lips, gently at first before exploring deeper. She yelps in surprise, but keeps the rhythm he’s set, hands dropping beneath his shirt and feeling his abdomen. The hot flesh at her fingertips sends sparks through her and suddenly she doesn’t have enough hands and he doesn’t have enough skin for her to access.

For just a moment, she thinks about Dawson. She thinks about how she’s never experienced this kind of raw, ardent enthusiasm within herself before. It’s fun and scary and so, so different than anything else she’s ever experienced. Is this what everyone talks about? Is this the kind of passion that starts wars and ruins lives?

Pacey’s hands move to cup her face, and she feels herself moving closer to him, missing the feel of his lips on hers. Joey marvels at how well he fits against her, how her body twists so well around his, their arms entwined in ways that would’ve been foreign to her a few days ago.

“P-people,” she says. Clearing her throat, she clarifies, “Boat christening.”

“Right,” he responds, low and husky. “Can’t exactly walk out of here like this.”

Shaking her head, she adjusts her shirt and smoothes her hair. Licking her lips, she can taste the coffee he had this morning, can taste the way he reluctantly just let go.

Giving her a hand from the boat to the dock, she feels herself not wanting to release it. His hand is warm in hers, calloused from all those months of sanding and polishing the boat.

“You know,” he murmurs, hand still holding hers, looking out in the distance for anyone in sight. “There’s a boathouse just over there.”

Joey smirks, nodding, before letting him pull her there. It’s impulsive and dangerous, but it feels good in ways she's never felt before.

 _Today, it’ll be today_ , she tells herself, the mantra repeating between them as he peppers her with kisses and she pulls him by the belt loops closer to her. They knock over an old pair of Wellingtons and the papers on the table make sharp sounds when they’re moved by roaming hands.

“I think,” she gets out, her lips nearly swollen, “I hear people.”

Pacey glances out the window. “You hear no one.”

She lets him wash over her again, his hands lifting her and surrounding her with nothing but him, her senses on overdrive. He gives her a look, a look so deep that she has to blink a few times to clear her vision.

It makes her reach up to kiss him again, arms wrapping around his neck, body flush against his. His hands land at her waist and she quivers at his fingers touching the skin by the hem of her shirt.

“I’m gonna give you ten seconds,” he whispers against her mouth when they part for breath.

Eyes shut, she leans in again, “Shut up.”

 


End file.
